


Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons

by cosim18



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, Double Penetration, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Multi, Oral Sex, Reconciliation, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-01 13:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11487147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosim18/pseuds/cosim18
Summary: Allison was resurrected following the Battle of the Nogitsune, unknown to her friends and family. Ten years later, on her own path, she stumbles into a familiar face, bringing up memories and hope for a new future.Nowhere near as lighthearted as the summary suggests, but not quite a dark!fic either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been ruminating on this baby for a few months now, and I'm finally ready to release it! Stallira has become my ultimate OT3 and I needed to see more works of them.

The days are long, but they’re no comparison to the nights. Time almost seems to be a joke at this point, her saviors laughing cruelly after deciding she was worth another chance at life. Not that she would rather have stayed dead, mind. She sometimes forgets how easily time slips from her until she happens upon a calendar or overhears the news in a diner. Ten years she's been at this.

She never returned to finish out high school, it just didn’t seemed prudent after what she had gone through, and for as much love as she had for those she left behind, she knew they had given their goodbyes, moved on. Besides, dying left its mark on her, and she wasn’t sure if she would feel as though she belonged in Beacon Hills if she were to return. So much time had passed, and for so many years she came close to going back to where she began this journey, but something always held her back. Maybe it was fear, maybe not. But ten long years have passed, and she doesn't feel the pull as she once did.

There was no price for her extended time, at least as far as she had yet to discover, and so she had taken it up as her mantel to hold to the code she had created before her death. That way she could honor who she was before, and hopefully help her friends, even if only from a distance and with no recognition.

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protèger eux-měmes._

_We protect those who cannot protect themselves._

The words echo in her mind as she lugs herself to the motel room that matches her key, and she lets her head drop against the door as the card slides into its slot, the light flicking to green with a little chirp. She drags her feet through the threshold, ashamed at her level of exhaustion.

 _You’ve been through tougher than this. You’ve gone longer without sleep. There is_ no _reason why you should be so tired, Allison._ She shakes her head and decidedly ignores her inner voice that still mysteriously sounds like Lydia, as she drops her bow and removes the sword belt around her waist and the arrow quiver on her back. Rubbing her face, she heaves a sigh, rolling her shoulders. She plops onto the bed and wiggles her leggings off before curling her bruised body up under the covers. She realizes as sleep begins to claim her that she hadn’t even bothered to turn on the light when she entered the room. No surprise, she was more than comfortable with darkness. She knew she wouldn't sleep much anyway, so she might as well set the lighting for an ideal night's rest.

When morning finally arrives, Allison stays in bed, sprawled out with the haphazard covers. Her face is pressed hard against the pillow, one leg poking out from under the comforter and the edge of the bed, and she laughs a little at the idea of the Boogeyman attempting to frighten her. She likes to think she would scare even him. Her last kill was just two days ago, and she would be lying if she said she cared about the collateral damage.

Forcing herself to roll onto her back, wincing at the stickiness of leftover drool on her cheek, Allison relishes the fact that she  _finally_ has a few days to rest. She'd been tracking a kanima and its master across the country, all the way here to Maryland. She no longer considered anywhere home, so whenever she got to take some time off to just sleep and recuperate, she felt warm inside. That same warmth came when she spilled blood too, and she wondered for the millionth time if she ever felt that before dying. She hadn't killed anyone before that, though, so it was hard to tell sometimes. But she likes to think that she always had a bit of darkness inside of her, rather than the alternative option of her resurrection causing an evil to brew inside of her. It was simply easier to live with the things she did that way.

The sun starts to blind her face, and she groans and rolls back over before scooting off the bed, chuckling at the pile she'd made the night before. It took a long time to come to terms with the katana, bestowed upon her by the ones who saved her. She didn't use it for the first few years, barely daring to look at it, but too scared to let it go. It had still been stained with her blood, tacky from not being cleaned. But during one of her hunts, the enemy came up quicker and closer than she had anticipated, and she didn't have access to her bow or knives. Instead, she unsheathed the blade that had taken her own life, claiming another for the first time. After that, it had become easy, and she trusted the katana as an extension of herself. In a way, it was what started her down this path.

The shower is calling to her, and she makes her way to it, stripping nude by the time she reached the bathroom. There was no worry about privacy, and even if something were to happen, it wasn't like she couldn't easily dispose of a threat, even without clothes. The water and steam feel phenomenal on her skin, cleansing her mind as much as her body. She likes to write the names of her old pack on the walls of the showers she uses, temporary artifacts to who she truly was. No matter how much time passed, she knew she would never give up on them. They forged her into who she is now.

After running the hot water long enough for it to fade out, Allison gets out of the shower, but collapses back in bed. After all, with nothing pressing, there was no reason she couldn't relax for once.

* * *

 

Vending machines at motels are officially the worst method of filling up on food, but money was more than sparse, and Allison is more than able to go without food for extended periods of time. It isn’t quite that she doesn’t need to eat, so much as she has little desire to. She’s not immortal, so she figures that eating is still a necessary evil.

This morning’s options are a measly two bags of Doritos, a package of Reese’s, and a pack of gum. She groans, punching in the code for the candy, settling for the most sugary choice. If caffeine isn’t on the table, then the sweet substance would have to do. As she bends down to remove the package from the slot in the machine, she feels a prickle on the back of her neck. It’s a new sort of sixth sense that she’d developed since coming back from the dead.

“I don’t care, you are _not_ dying, you ass,” she hears a gritty voice whisper out. It sounds vaguely familiar, but she disregards that notion. She’s been hearing her friends’ voices for the past decade or so. Sometimes they repeat actual conversations that happened once upon a time, but more often than not, the sounds of her old loves drift into her head, a welcome nuisance. She’s decided that they are her personal ghosts, but still isn’t sure about whether they’re there to try and draw her back to her former pack, or to simply remind her of the good times she was blessed with before this current life.

Regardless, even though she forces herself to hear the voice differently, as a completely unknown person, she can’t help but be drawn to those words. It’s not as though motels are the most savory of places, and she’d be lying if she said she had never seen a dead body at one. One that she hadn’t been the cause of.

No, Allison was drawn to the urgency of the voice. It didn’t sound scared, so much as angry, and that meant something real was happening, that the speaker was used to seeing people die. From what she could hear, the man who wasn’t speaking probably wouldn’t make it through the night. She could hear his companion practically dragging him, supporting all of his weight, and his breath was rattling more than what was recoverable.

Slowly, she rises to her feet, tucking her Reese’s into her back pocket. No need to waste the small amount of money she’d already spent. Her bow and katana were back in the room, but she had a knife strapped to each ankle if necessary. Not that she couldn’t handle herself without any weapons, but she was still exhausted as fuck, and didn’t have the energy to rely simply on her own physical prowess. She creeps close to the wall, hiding in the shadows, cursing the sunlight. It was both obscuring her own vision and making it harder to stay hidden. As she pokes her head around the corner of the structure, her heart drops as she notices the man is gone.

There’s a body slumped against a door up ahead, blood all over his broken body, his chest a marled mess. There’s a gun in his hand, but the muscles are slack, and Allison figures his partner had left it for him to keep watch, knowing he wouldn't live but not ready to let him give up hope. Which made Allison realize that the other man was still missing, and she kicks herself for not keeping her guard up. As she retreats back toward her room, she sees a shadow behind her, and she ducks into the alley between the motel buildings to draw her chaser away from her room. He should be easy to take care of, even if she was having an off day. She’s dealt with such a variety of people - and creatures - that it’s hard for her to see anyone as a challenge. As a corner comes up, she resists the urge to turn around and confront her pursuer, instead acting as though she’s going to follow the path in front of her.

As the man gets closer, Allison suddenly steps back, throwing her elbow out hard, catching him in the ribs. _Huh. Bulletproof vest,_ she notes. The force is still enough to knock him back, though, and that gives her extra time. She swivels around to face him and kicks her leg straight out in front of her, but her attack is nixed as he catches her foot and throws her back, causing her to stumble in order to maintain her balance. Her hair swings out of her face, and just as recognition dawns on her, she sees a gun leveled at her head.

“Agent Stilinski, FBI. Hands up, where I can see them,” the man says, his voice jarring her. Out of habit, she obliges, too shocked to do much else.

“Is this some sick joke? Are you a ghost? A punishment? What the fuck is this?” She whispers, not really talking to anyone. Her eyes are wide, scanning over the figure in front of her before making contact with his brown eyes.

“I was going to ask the same thing,” he responds after a few moments, the gun still raised.

Allison can’t help but notice how well he grew into his face, as well as his once-gangly body. He was full of muscle now, his arms full of sinuous tendons flexing with the motion of keeping the gun leveled. His jaw clenches and his hair waves ever-so-slightly in the wind. He let it grow out, apparently. Her thought process is interrupted when he speaks again.

“So what the fuck are you? Allison died a long time ago, so please spare me any bullshit you might have ready to go. I already lost my partner today and I’m not feeling anything holding me back from putting a bullet in your skull. Talk.” His hand clenches tighter on his gun, but Allison can see him squint his eyes, as though questioning if what he was seeing was real.

 _Is this not the first time he’s seen me?_ She wonders. Instead of answering, she tries to calm him. Trying to explain probably wouldn’t help him lower his guard.

“Are you really my Stiles? In the flesh, standing right here, human Stiles?” Allison asks, tears unwittingly rising in her eyes. Her posture relaxes even just mentioning the name, her hands drop back down to her sides. She keeps them balled into fists, just in case she needs to fight again, but she hopes beyond everything that this is real. Emotions hadn’t played a part in her life since first coping with coming back, and they surged and bubbled below the surface at the hope standing in front of them.

He hesitates before answering, as though taken aback by the question.

“I don’t know when I ever would’ve been _yours_ , but I am Stiles. Some might debate the human part, but last I checked I was.” It’s as much of a non-answer as Allison had given him.

“Okay, now we’ve got that out of the way. I’m Allison, Allison Argent. I swear it’s me, Stiles. I still can’t really say if I’m human or not though, I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. But I’m alive, and that’s all that really matters, right? Now can you lower the gun and we can talk about this?” She hates sounding this weak, but in this moment, weakness is all she can hold on to. She’s so tired, in every way, and she couldn’t describe how much she _wanted_ this, wanted companionship and familiarity with another person.

Stiles tilts his head, seeming to be deciding whether or not to kill the person in front of him, but he looks down and shakes his head, lowering the gun after cursing to himself, too quiet for Allison to hear.

“You’ve got an hour to convince me,” he says, turning heel and heading back toward his deceased partner before she could respond. He doesn’t say anything more, but she knows he expects her to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison tells Stiles her story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly just them talking, with a little physical progression at the end. Next chapter we'll see a bit more of their respective darkness, as well as some action (I'll let you ponder what specific sort of action)!

She marches after Stiles, rolling her eyes a little. She thinks she should be mildly concerned, but she’s flooding with hope and happiness for the first time in a long while.

“What do you need to know to be convinced?” Allison asks, keeping her voice casual. Stiles has holstered his weapon and is leaning over his fallen partner, muttering a goodbye.

“What don’t I need? You died because of me, Allison. You died because I let the nogitsune into my head, and you have been haunting me ever since. Just because you’re actually talking and engaging with me doesn’t mean you’re not some apparition. Wouldn't be the first time you've appeared to me.” He refuses to look at her, instead wiping off the gun he had given his friend before walking toward an SUV parked in the lot.

“You’ve been blaming yourself this whole time?” Allison whispers, distracted. After briefly hesitating, she follows after him again, leaning against the door as he reaches into the back seat.

“How could I not?” He bites back bitterly. “I couldn’t do anything to help the pack, I collapsed in the damn tunnels while Lydia screamed above me as you bled out, held in my best friend’s arms. I remember hurting so many people while I was possessed, and I was able to accept what I did. But you? God, Allison. How the fuck could I come to terms with it? You’re down to fifty minutes, by the way.” Stiles brushes past her, still not making eye contact, and walks toward the room his partner is in front of. He fiddles with the bag he’s carrying and the keycard to the room, shaking slightly. After the third unsuccessful attempt at opening the door, Allison gently places her hand on his, taking the card. He grits out a shaky sigh and steps to the side to let her do it.

“Fine, you want to put me on a timer? You really think you’ll kill me again?” Allison says, knowing the comment will anger Stiles enough to shock him into action again.

“Fuck you, just talk, or I drive away and pretend like this never happened.”

“I never said I wouldn’t talk. It just might take a little more than an hour to explain everything, considering the fact that even I don’t even know exactly what happened.” The door gives a little chirp as she unlocks it, and she pushes inside, holding the door for Stiles to enter. He’s dragging his partner in with him, grunting under the weight, and kneels over him silently, thinking. After a moment, he straightens up and collapses onto the bed, covering his face with his hands.

“Just explain as much as you can, as quickly as you can. I’m not looking to stay here any longer than necessary.” Allison can tell how tired he is, and decides to just go for it, knowing she had nothing left to lose. She regards him on the bed, not daring to look at her, before swinging her arms broadly and pacing the room while regaling her story.

“I’m not sure how long after I died I was reawakened, but it had to have been at least a few months because it was no longer winter. I felt like I was on trial or something, I was standing in this room, so dark and ominous yet not fear-inducing. There were a handful of majestic women sitting at a bench a few feet away, and somehow I knew that they weren’t human. I couldn’t find my voice to ask what was happening, and I didn’t even realize that I actually had died until one of them approached me and told me what had happened. That I’d been stabbed by an Oni after killing one of them, in the battle at Oak Creek to save Lydia. The one who spoke to me held the sword that ended my life in her hands, waiting for me to take it. She told me it would be my talisman, that it would help guide me through my newly extended life.”

“Who was she? And aren’t talismans supposed to be charms or some shit? Not like a literal sword that killed you?”

“Don’t interrupt, or this will take a lot longer. You can ask your questions when I’m finished. I can’t promise answers to them all, but I’ll try.” Stiles rolls his eyes, but motions with his hands for her to continue.

“Thank you,” Allison says as she starts again, smiling a little. “Anyway, I don’t know who she was, or is. The others didn’t say anything at all. The one who gave me the sword had large wings on her back, a beautiful, shimmery grey color, and they ran the length of her entire body. She was about as tall as me, I guess, and she was beautiful in a sinister way. She said that she and her sisters had broken off from their family, and chose to live their own path.” Allison pauses before posing the next question. “Stiles, have you heard of Valkyries?”

“They have norse origins, right? They’re the ones who transport fallen soldiers to Valhalla?” he answers, uncertainty in his voice.

“Sort of, yes. Apparently they’re real, but just like werewolves or kitsunes, they’re not quite the same as the legends would have you believe. The one who spoke, let’s call her Astrid for simplicity’s sake, told me that her family chose to save certain heroes, rather than simply transporting them to the afterlife. She said that I’m the strongest candidate to be a modern phoenix, someone who is given a second chance by rising from the ashes of their own destruction. By giving me new life, Astrid said that she hoped I would continue on being the hero I had grown to be. A lot to put on a teenager’s shoulders, huh? She talked a little more about her family and why I was chosen, and then the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the desert in New Mexico, still wearing what I died in, with the only material object in sight being that fucking sword.

I made my way to the nearest town and stole a few pieces of clothing from a thrift store, just something to blend in with. It wouldn’t have exactly been a great thing to walk around wearing a dress with blood all over it. As I tried to find my feet, I somehow knew that I wasn’t meant to just lead a normal life anymore. Even if I wanted to, I wasn’t sure how. I didn’t know how much time I had lost, and I couldn’t face the mundane nature of high school or even college after going through all of that. Instead, I chose to continue on as a hunter. Apparently being a newly regenerated hunter has its perks, because finding and tracking supernatural creatures became even easier. I have a weird sort of sixth sense now, able to detect when something is going to happen. It’s how I found you, actually. I was just minding my own business when I sensed an acute danger, which turned out to be you.”

“Assuming all of that is true, why didn’t you ever come back to us? Tell us you were alive? Your death wrecked us all, and I’m not just talking about my guilt. Isaac and your dad left, though the latter came back to help when we needed him. It’s been ten years, Allison. A whole fucking decade.” Stiles was more alert now, the story having become much more interesting than he’d expected.

“I just couldn’t make myself return to Beacon Hills. I guess a part of me didn’t want to have to face all of you, undo all the pain I caused. By the time I was rejuvenated, you had all probably moved on, continued living your lives, stronger for your loss. But I still hold you close in my heart. My inner psyche even has Lydia’s voice.” Allison chuckles at this, knowing how ridiculous she must sound. “I needed to move on, and so did you.”

“Do I look like I’ve moved on?” Stiles whispers.

“Yes, actually, you do. Do you think you would’ve left Beacon Hills and joined the FBI if you hadn’t? You might still feel guilt, you might still be bitter, but you’re here and I doubt you would be if you hadn’t moved on, at least a little bit.”

Silence fills the room for a few minutes, the barely-there sound of breathing the only thing to be heard. Eventually, Stiles sits up and rubs his hands down his face, breathing in deeply.

“Have you killed?” he asks.

“Yes. And not just monsters and creatures. Have you?”

“What do you mean have I? We’ve already discussed this.”

“I’m not talking about me, nor am I talking about what happened with the nogitsune. Have you, Stiles Stilinski, killed anyone while in your right mind, with full clarity? Human or otherwise?” She thinks for a moment that he’s not going to answer, until he simply nods his head.

“My first was this kid named Donovan. It was during senior year of high school, and he surprised me, attacked me when I was alone. It’s a long story for another time, but the point is that I killed him. And it messed me up for a long while. Scott and I grew a little distant afterward, because I didn’t want our little savior to know how far I had fallen.”

“Ten years ago, I would’ve chastised you for keeping something like that from him. But I understand now. Even though it was a creature that was aiming to do us harm, killing the Oni did something to me. I didn’t feel remorse, so much as a switch inside of myself flip. After some time, I’ve realized that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the world we live in, even if that means some people end up dead.” Stiles looks at Allison, makes eye contact for the first time all day.

“Does that mean you’ve killed innocent people?”

“Yes. And I’m guessing you have too.” Stiles doesn’t lower his eyes, but Allison can see a slight darkness in them now. All he does in response is nod again.

“Before they left me, Astrid whispered one thing into my ear, and I’ve held onto it ever since. She said, ‘don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash.’ I think she was trying to tell me to not be afraid of letting myself go. She and her sisters knew that I had a good heart, even I don’t always believe that. I still may not know exactly what my purpose is, or if I even have one, but I’ve been living my life according to that. I think you could do with that advice too. Even when we were a bunch of idiots in sophomore year, before I even knew about the supernatural, I could tell there was a little bit of darkness inside of you, Stiles. And I think that darkness has only grown. Maybe we were meant to meet again, so distant from what our lives used to be.”

Allison finally ceases her pacing and sits, and gently places her hand on Stiles’s face, cupping his cheek. She pulls his face over to look at her and simply looks into his eyes.

“I’m glad we’ve gotten this second chance,” she whispers before leaning forward to kiss him, closing her eyes before touching his lips. When she pulls back, she keeps her eyes closed while Stiles stares at her for a moment, not completely sure what just happened. Suddenly his hands are holding her face, and he leans in, kissing her deeply, his tongue asking for permission before she lets him in.

After a few moments they pull apart again, catching their breath.

“Does this mean you believe me?” Allison asks, chuckling.

“Maybe.” There’s just the smallest hint of a smile on Stiles’s face, and Allison can’t help but want more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles relays to Allison what happened to the pack before something prompts them to work together.

When he wakes, it’s to the distinct sound of the shower running, the door to the bathroom clearly left open. They did little more than make out the night before, but Stiles insisted that she stay the night with him in order to keep an eye on her. The story she told was convincing enough, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d been gone - believed dead, in fact - for over a decade. He could imagine how dying would leave an impression on one’s psyche, but she was still so far from the Allison he once knew. How could she have not wanted to return to Beacon Hills to let them know she was alive? Wanting to get out of that godforsaken town was at the top of Stiles’ to-do list after graduating, but he still had loved ones there. Fewer now than when he originally left, but still. Allison had known how important she was to the pack, to her _family_ , that it was insulting she wouldn’t even tell them she wasn’t dead.

Stiles sighs and rolls over onto his side to check the time on his watch. Seeing that it’s still early, only 6:45am, he groans in resignation and pushes himself up to stand. As he makes his way to the bathroom, he almost trips over the leggings laying on the floor.

“Do you have a problem with folding your clothes, or at the very least placing them in a single pile?” Stiles asks as he reaches the doorway, leaning against the wall.

“You gonna join me?” Allison asks, not answering his question. There’s a small smile on her face, still guarded.

“If that’s an invitation, then yes. I didn’t want to presume,” Stiles says, pulling his shirt off over his head. To demonstrate his point, he folds it neatly and places it on the counter, followed by his pants, and gives Allison a pointed look. Once stripped, he steps up to the shower stall and pulls the curtain back to see all of her.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have offered, Stiles. Personally, I haven’t felt the touch of anyone in some time. A man in even longer,” she says, stepping back until she bumps the wall behind her, biting her lip and holding a hand out for Stiles to take. He does, stepping into the stall and quirks an eyebrow up at her.

“That implies you’ve had sexcapades with other women,” Stiles says, pulling the shower curtain back to close them in a private bubble away from everything else. His eyes are locked on hers, but he steps forward to place his hands on her waist.

“The adventures I’ve had,” Allison hints before leaning forward to kiss Stiles. Pulling back, she continues, “I doubt you’d even believe some of the things I’ve done.” Her words come out in a whisper, the double meaning not lost on either of them. She tilts her head to give Stiles better access.

He’s too focused on pleasuring Allison to even bite on that bait, instead pressing his lips to her neck, letting his hands slowly explore her body. He’d heard plenty about her from Scott when they were together, but they were all mere children back then, horny teenagers looking for release more than anything else. Now, however, they were adults, fully aware of the thrill that could come from taking _time._

He places a knee between Allison’s legs, giving her some friction, while he continues to press kisses to her body, moving downward from her collarbone to her chest. He’s not afraid to use his teeth, and Allison silently thanks him for that as she has no qualms about being marked up. She’s toed the line between pleasure and pain so many times that she’s lost count.

Stiles can tell she’s getting impatient, though, when he feels one of her hands card its way into his hair, pulling slightly on the locks before gently pushing down until he’s faced with her heat. Her hand makes its way to the back of his head, encouraging him as he presses his tongue to where she’s already wet, and it’s not from the shower. With one hand he begins to trace her lips, edging a finger in, while the other hand reaches up to cup one of her breasts, squeezing her nipple in time with his slow thrusts.

The only thought that comes to Allison’s mind is that she was totally right about that filthy mouth of his.

* * *

 

“So what brought you to this dump?” Stiles asks before shoving a few more curly fries in his mouth..

After they both got off in the shower - Allison twice - they realized neither one of them had eaten anything since lunch the day before. When Allison admitted she had no money for food, Stiles said he was happy to treat her to whatever she chose, which just so happened to be Arby’s.

“I was tracking a kanima, all the way from Boulder, Colorado. I finally got ahold of its master a few towns over and killed him the first chance I got. At least this one had a somewhat valid motive for wanting to kill - some gang tried to use his daughter as leverage for him to pay his debts. What they did to her had no effect on the fact that he was broke, though. I tried to reason with him, but the nature of the kanima’s relationship to its master forced me to get rid of him. I lost the kanima, but I doubt it’ll cause much more havoc considering it doesn’t really have a purpose anymore. Better than Matt and Gerard,” Allison finishes. “What about you?”

“A dark kitsune. I’m not sure about its background, to be honest, other than he’s been senselessly killing, but not in the same way as the nogitsune. Reminds me of Kira when she was losing control, though with less righteousness, which may be attributed to the fact that Kira’s fox was influenced by Scott. Regardless, I still haven’t gotten a good glimpse at him, but I’m still alive so that’s gotta count for something. Can’t say the same for my partner. The kitsune didn’t even have a sword, just tried to tear my partner apart. I got a few bullets in it but obviously they didn’t do enough damage.”

“I’m sorry about him. If I could’ve helped, I would’ve. I’m sure my appearance didn’t exactly help you either,” she admits.

“It’s not like you planned it,” Stiles says, not wanting her to take the blame. “Besides, there was no way I would be able to mend his wounds. I’ve apparently got a curse on me, too,” he says, chuckling wryly.

“A curse, you say?” Allison asks, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Pray tell.”

“There’s not much to it, other than the fact that I haven’t been able to keep a partner in five years. They all end up dying. I’d say I’m surprised the bureau hasn’t revoked my agent status, but I’m the only one there with such a specific perspective on the supernatural world. Technically I’m the leader of my own division, but I’m practically Mulder from the X-Files.”

“I never did watch that show,” Allison remarks, not able to stop the smile that spreads across her face when she sees Stiles’ expression. He’s balking at her, clutching his chest in an overdramatic motion.

“Okay, I can forgive you not telling us you were alive, but I don’t think I can handle you not being up-to-date on sci-fi.” He’s smiling too, though, so Allison knows he’s not being totally serious.

“Did Scott ever get around to watching Star Wars?” she asks without thinking.

When Stiles even just hears the name of their old friend, his face drops and he takes his eyes away from hers, suddenly sagging in his chair.

“You know what, forget I even said anything,” Allison starts, but he’s shaking his head and holding his hand out for her to stop talking.

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t think you’d necessarily want the sitrep of the pack, but I guess you would be curious. Did you want to know about everyone, or just Scott?” His voice catches slightly when he says the name.

“If you don’t mind, it’d be nice to know where everyone is,” Allison says. She’s not shy in her curiousity, but she’s careful to not want to offend Stiles. It wouldn’t do to have him running off as soon as they had fallen back into their old conversational patterns.

Stiles leans back in his chair before speaking again, wiping his hands with the napkin, not realizing the crumbs have all been removed already. It’s a subconscious action, and Allison can’t help but imagine him wiping blood off his hands.

“Malia, the werecoyote we saved a little while before you - well, your death. She joined the pack shortly after the whole nogitsune business was solved. We were together for a few months. Isaac and your father went to France, unable to stay in Beacon Hills because of your death. I haven’t seen or heard from Isaac since, but your dad returned to help us out. Oh, and your Aunt Kate? She’s alive.” He stops when he notices her genuine surprise at that.

“Yeah, apparently when Peter supposedly killed her, his claws went in deep enough to change her. She’s a werejaguar, which none of us realized was even a thing. She came back to wreak havoc, using your death as her motivation. She somehow was able to exert control over some berserkers. You know what those are?” When Allison nods, he continues. “Well they came and made things difficult and teamed up with Peter Hale behind our backs. They schemed to kill Scott, which of course didn’t work. Peter was thrown in Eichen House while your dad continued to hunt Kate. No idea where she is, but your dad returned again to help out more, and this time he stayed in Beacon Hills. He’s with Scott’s mom now, actually. They got married a few years back, I hear. Scott also made his first beta, he was trying to save the kid and the only way was to bite his wrist. He was falling off the building. His name’s Liam. He’s strong, and angry, like Derek levels of anger times ten. Scott and Kira got together too, and dated throughout the rest of junior and senior years before she left.

Senior year is when everything started to fall apart, really. The pack started to splinter, due to a couple of different things all happening at once. Lydia was in Eichen House for a while too, catatonic. She’s fine now, extra badass thanks to some fighting skills she learned from Deputy Parrish and Meredith, a fellow banshee in Eichen. She and Malia are together, or at least they were last I heard, both wanting out of Beacon Hills and the supernatural world. Kira is currently stuck in the desert training with some Skinwalkers to learn to control her inner fox spirit. Oh, and that’s also the year I killed someone for the first time. Like, literal blood on my hands, not just the metaphorical shitstorm of the nogitsune possession.”

“How’d it happen?” Allison asks quietly, reaching her arm forward to calm the hand Stiles had been tapping against the table.

“What, me killing him?” Allison nods, so he continues. “He was a chimera, part werewolf and part wendigo. A group of pseudoscientists came to town and engineered a bunch of teenagers into manufactured supernaturals. Anyway, he came at me at the school one night. I was fixing my jeep -” he pauses when Allison scoffs.

“Sorry, do continue,” she says, motioning with her free hand and biting her lip to keep from laughing. Even before she left, the jeep was in constant need of maintenance.

“As I was saying, I was fixing my jeep and suddenly I feel a bite on my shoulder - him taking a chunk outta me with this fucked up mouth on his hand. He grabbed me, but I eventually was able to grab my wrench and whacked him with it, buying myself some time. I ran into the school and hid in the library, but he found me. When I started climbing the scaffolding - oh, yeah, the library was under construction, forgot to mention that. There was this pin, just a small ring, sticking out of one of the metal beams, so I pulled it. It went right through him, like a knife through butter. When I climbed down, I put my hands on the beam, initially to pull it out of him. But as he was gurgling on the blood coming up his throat, I found myself twisting the pole, just a little bit. Just enough to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to recover.

My hands were literally covered in blood that night, and I couldn’t make myself feel clean again for a long time. It caused a rift between Scott and I because I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what I’d done until much later. And to answer your original question about Scott, the last I talked to him, he was taking over Deaton’s veterinary clinic after the good doctor retired, still vowing to protect Beacon Hills as any supernatural threats may arise.” Stiles rolls his eyes a little at that, remembering how before he had been taken by the Ghost Riders he had casually given Scott that moniker - the Sworn Protector of the town.

“So how did you get to where you are? Not a part of the pack anymore yet still part of the supernatural?”

“I was already going into the FBI after school, and Lydia and I actually had a summer fling going on before we had a talk about being involved in the crap that goes on in the world. After becoming an agent, my superiors noticed that I was able to solve all kinds of cases that had baffled almost everyone else. They let me create my own division, but I sometimes wonder if that was just to get me to be quiet about everything I knew. That’s where I am now, albeit without a partner. Again.”

“How many  have you gone through?”

“Wow, that’s one hell of a morbid way to phrase it,” Stiles says with exaggeration, more for his own benefit than hers. “McKinley makes thirteen in four years. Yeah, I know, that’s a lot. I keep telling them to just let me go it alone, but bureaucracy is not a 'solo endeavor,' I've been told. I’m sure -”

Just as Stiles starts to offer something he’s not even totally sure about, screams echo out in the street. The duo are out in the middle of the action in seconds, running side-by-side as the crowd surges back against them. Soon enough, they see what caused the commotion.

“Looks like your fox decided to stay in town,” Allison remarks. Stiles can’t help but smile again, feeling comfort in her. She knows exactly what she’s up against and isn’t afraid to do what’s necessary, something that is rare in his world.

There are already three dead bodies, and the kitsune is straightening up from its last kill before it catches sight of Stiles and smiles at him, malice in its eyes, as if to send the message that their chase is to end today. It cocks its head to the side, examining its prey when it shifts its gaze to Allison.

She’s off in a flash, racing toward the beast, knives in hand. They’re her typical ring daggers, he realizes. Maybe things don’t always change. He climbs atop a car to get a better vantage point to cover her and can’t help but admire her fighting skills. She moves like the wind, whipping around the creature and getting in dozens of quick slices with her weapons. Blood is spraying onto her face and she somehow looks even more beautiful.

Stiles’ thought process is interrupted when he hears her cry out. Her own blood begins to intermingle with the creature’s as a gash in her side is opened, but she’s able to bury her knives in its back, weakening it. As she backs away from it, holding a hand over the wound, she winds around and kicks him in the head, causing him to tumble. Stiles enters the fray, shooting at the creature. It leaps up, aiming for Stiles to knock him down, when Stiles instead ducks, rolling into a somersault. He whips around, kneeling, and aims for the head of the fox. Its head is suddenly thrown back, blood and brain matter spraying the concrete. Time feels as though it moves in slow motion as it falls to the ground, defeated, and Stiles runs over to Allison to help her stand.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassures him with a resigned voice. “Not the first time it’s happened.”

“We should still get you patched up, though,” Stiles says. He doesn’t disregard her words, instead examining her from a logical standpoint. She simply nods in agreement before more screams break out, pulling both of their attention away from her.

“What now?” she mutters.

Stiles wraps her arm up around his neck, pulling her in close to support her weight and help her walk steadily. Her free arm is still on her waist, holding pressure on her wound, while Stiles uses his free arm to hold his gun protectively. They walk over to where the screams had started to find the creature gone.

“There’s no way it got up after that,” she says.

“It didn’t,” Stiles says, pointing ahead of them. “It was picked up.”

A cloaked figure stands tall, the kitsune thrown over its shoulder like a sack, turning only enough to look behind itself to see its pursuers. The eyes on the being glowed a vibrant yellow.

"No way. Was that -” Stiles starts, baffled.

“An Oni,” Allison finishes his thought. Both of their faces darken as they remember the last time they were faced with one.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaac will be making an appearance, along with Scott, in a later chapter! Malia and Lydia will also show up, but not to the same extent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Allison follow the lead of the Oni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys this chapter is about 50% smut and I'd say I'm sorry but I'm really not, just a little embarrassed. I'm always nervous writing smut, so I do apologize if it wasn't written very well, but this felt seamless for once and instead of following the strict plot I had planned for this chapter I wanted to let my fingers just keep typing however they saw fit. The sex and the action scenes are going to be my biggest challenge for this fic, so I really do hope you like it!

“How the hell could that have been an Oni?” Allison asks, scrubbing the crimson blood off her hands. She turns to face Stiles, leaning back against the sink, and scoffs when he brings a wet washcloth up to her face to wipe off more of the blood.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Haven’t seen one since the night the nogitsune was exorcised. He had two of them acting as his bodyguards, and Isaac helped your dad realize that the silver was what killed them, so they teamed up with Derek and the twins to dispatch them. Aiden ended up paying the price with a sword to the gut, just like you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Allison says, pulling the washcloth out of Stiles’ hand and dropping it to the floor. “And you know that. I didn’t realize they could come out during the day.” She raises his hand, placing it on her waist, before moving forward to kiss him. She pushes him against the wall, claiming his mouth with hers as she works to unbuckle his belt. “I also hadn’t realized how hot you were in battle, holding a gun.” Her eyes briefly drift to the floor where Stiles’ holster was, the gun still in it.

After watching the Oni disappear, they had made their way back to the hotel and removed the clothing that had gotten dirty, leaving Allison in her bra and panties and Stiles with just his pants. As she presses further, biting Stiles’ lip deep enough to bleed, his hands drift up to unclasp her bra. When she pulls back to let it fall to the ground amid the other clothing, he actually _whines_ at the physical loss of her.

“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch,” Allison teases, smiling up at him, dramatically looping her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pushing down, standing before Stiles fully naked once more.

“This is becoming a habit of ours, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, taking off his pants and boxers.

“Looks like it,” Allison says, and takes his length in her hand while kissing him. She strokes him languidly, holding his attention while focusing on his mouth. After a few more minutes of this, Stiles pushes gently at her shoulders and quirks his head.

“Were you planning on doing more than teasing me?”

“Just getting you ready,” Allison says. “Does that mean you are?”

Not wanting to grant her a verbal response, Stiles instead picks her up and turns back around, slamming her back against the wall. She grins, leaning forward to kiss him while wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling him enter her. As he thrusts up into her, she’s pushed back into the wall again and again until they climax. Coming down, they’re both a bit out of breath and chuckling.

“If I’d known what you could be like, I might’ve come back just to bed you ages ago,” Allison says as she turns toward the shower. Before she has a chance to turn on the water she feels Stiles behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing a kiss to her neck. She notices that he doesn’t respond, and decides to leave it be.

“So what’s the plan from here?” She asks, changing the topic. She straightens up with him still holding her, feeling him harden slightly behind her.

“I have an inkling about where that Oni is going,” he says, lightly gliding his fingertips over her skin, pulling goosebumps to the surface and a tingling down south. “And you’re more than welcome to join me in hunting it down.”

“You mean like permanently? Or just to finish our business?” Allison asks, not sure how serious he is.

“I’d say from the other day that we both are open to drawing out business,” he responds, one of his hands teasing at her folds. She’s still wet and he’s easily able to slide two fingers in. Allison moans slightly at the intrusion and drags one of her hands down to rub at her clit before Stiles knocks it away with his other hand, instead placing his own hand there. “Let me take care of that for you,” he whispers into her ear. Just as her legs start to shake from the weight of standing and she feels another orgasm coming, Stiles suddenly pulls away.

“What the hell, Stilinski?” She snarls. Instead of responding, Stiles makes his way back into the room, collecting up their clothes to keep in a more tidy pile. “This doesn’t exactly seem like the time to care about cleanliness,” Allison continues, following after him. Her pulse is still high from arousal and she notices that Stiles is fully hard again.

“I just figured with as dirty as we’re getting I ought to compensate cleanliness somehow else,” Stiles says. When he turns back around, he finds himself surprised to see her right behind him. He’s gotten good at detecting when someone is sneaking up on him, but he’s finding Allison more difficult than most.

“You want dirty, I’ll give you dirty.” Allison steers Stiles to the bed, kissing him all the while, before pushing him back to lay down. Before he has time to move otherwise, she crawls on top of him and ties his shirt around his wrists, tethering him to the headboard. Stiles simply smirks as though this was his plan all along.

While Allison wants nothing more than to find her own satisfaction, she wants Stiles to suffer a little before letting him release his own desires. Straddling his waist, she leans down to kiss him, not caring whose blood begins to taint their mouths at their rough contact. Just as Stiles leans up to chase her lips, she pulls back, instead moving to his chest, playing with his nipples and heightening his sensitivity.

“I think I’ve learned my lesson,” Stiles whispers.

“You know, I really don’t think you have,” Allison responds, peppering kisses down his happy trail until reaching his cock. She takes it in hand and looks up at him before licking the tip, barely making contact. Stiles moans and closes his eyes, thrusting his hips up ever so slightly. “Uh uh, sweetie,” Allison says. “Eyes open or you’re not getting anything more.” Stiles bites back a curse before opening those brown eyes, glaring down at Allison.

“Attaboy,” she teases, and takes his length in her mouth just as he’s about to respond.

“God, Allison,” Stiles mutters, wiggling his hips. She keeps pumping him, taking more with her mouth every time she goes back down. She can sense he’s close and suddenly squeezes the base.

“Do you think you’re ready for me?” Allison asks. She’s already on her knees, kneeling above him. Stiles doesn’t think he would be able to form actual words, so he simply nods heartily. “Good boy,” she says as she lowers herself onto him. They both moan in pleasure as she starts to rock, placing her hands on his chest for leverage.

The cheap motel bed creaks with their movement, and the air is filled with the sound of slapping skin and moans. When Stiles comes, he’s fairly quiet, and Allison follows shortly after, though with a louder reaction. She collapses onto him and they lay like that for a moment, catching their breath, before Allison finally pushes herself up to untie Stiles. She lays back down next to him, staring up at the ceiling.

“Permanently, to answer your question from before,” Stiles pants out, still staring at the popcorn texture and catching his breath.

“You just keeping me around because I’m a good lay?” Allison asks.

“If you’ll recall, I believe _I_ was the only one laying down for that,” Stiles says, turning his head to look at Allison. “I’m serious, A. I don’t have a partner anymore, and you’ve proven yourself more than capable to handle anything thrown at you. The fucking is just a pleasant side effect. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do believe I’m still gross from that fight, and I’m all sweaty now too.” He throws a wink in her direction before walking off to shower, leaving the door open as she had the day before.

Allison lays on the bed for a few more minutes, thinking the offer over, before pulling herself up to join Stiles. She’s quiet for a while, focusing on the water streaming down her back and the suds in her hair.

“I accept,” she finally says. She smiles up at Stiles, who simply nods in response.

“We should probably head out tonight, then. Looks like we’re going back home. Or at least close.” Allison’s face scrunches up in confusion - and perhaps a little irritation - before Stiles elaborates. “I said the last time I saw an Oni was when we were dealing with the nogitsune. But the last time I _heard_ about one was from our old friend the kitsune. As her test with the Skinwalkers, Kira had to fight an Oni. I have no idea where else to look for a mysterious Japanese demon ninja, but that’s my lead. And the desert where she trained is only a few hours from Beacon Hills. Still accept my offer?” Stiles asks with a smirk.

* * *

 

It turns out that Allison does, in fact, still want to be partnered with Stiles, as she is sitting in the passenger seat of his car. They are on the last leg of their trip, only a few hours out from their destination. Only stopping once, Stiles and Allison each drove their equal portions, and instead of resting in motels, they opted to sleep in shifts while the other drove. Without an official jurisdiction for the supernatural, they had no funds coming in from the FBI, instead relying on what Stiles had in his account and what they could scavenge. Stiles hadn’t wanted to go through the bureaucracy that would surely ensue after reporting the Oni sighting to his superiors, so he was banking on finding it in time to have something to turn in.

“Wait a second, did you see that?” Allison asks, placing her hand on Stiles’ arm. Their closeness had only grown, and sudden movements like that weren’t surprising. They’d been fucking about as much as they rested and were intimately familiar with one another’s body by now.

“I did,” Stiles says haltingly. “And I’ve seen it before.” The sky in front of them is lit up with lightning, a stark contrast to the otherwise pitch black night. The sun set a few hours prior, so the only light source is coming from up ahead.

The duo travel in silence the rest of the way there, neither sure with what is going on. Neither had seen anything quite like what was ahead of them, and they were trying to mentally prepare for whatever battle might ensue. Stiles glances over at Allison and gives her a little smile. At this point, they both know the dangers and don’t underestimate each other, but there’s a quiet bond between them, that they have each other’s backs.

“You ready for this?” Allison asks.

“Ready as I will be,” Stiles says, putting the car in park. Allison gets out, circling to the trunk to retrieve her weapons, while Stiles checks the magazine of his gun before reinserting it. As he’s getting out of the car, Allison walks up to him, a gun holstered at her hip and her bow looped around her back, her quiver full of arrows.

“Your katana? Interesting choice,” Stiles says, making note of the weapon she chose to utilize.

“We’re fighting an Oni, whose weapon is naturally a katana. Figured it’d help level the playing field.” Stiles simply nods at that, having no argument. He leans over to face her and presses a kiss to her forehead before they enter the foray together.

Just as they round the corner of the cliff, the sparks begin to die out. There’s still an orange glow to things, but lightning no longer dances among the constellations. Allison turns to Stiles and they have a silent conversation, motioning with their heads, before something rolls toward them, stopping at her feet. She kicks at it a little to identify it, jumping back slightly when she realizes it’s the head of an Oni.

“No way. What the hell has that kind of power?” she asks, looking to Stiles for her answer. He doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps his gaze leveled ahead of them in the dark. He makes out three distinct figures and raises his gun ahead of him. Out of his peripheral he can see Allison raising her sword in a battle stance as well.

They creep forward, walking slow and with purpose, caution overwhelming any other thought. The body of the Oni lay ahead, but Stiles notices an arm further away, still clutching a sword. Blood is sprayed on the ground, still glistening with freshness, and his eyes widen.

“The Oni don’t have blood. This can’t be from it,” he whispers to Allison. The sound of screaming picks up around them, and they move to stand back-to-back, protecting each other from whatever comes their way.

“This was never part of the deal,” Stiles hears a voice call out. There’s a deepness to it, similar to how Scott’s voice always deepened when he shifted.

“We said we would help. We never said how.”

“This is some cruel mockery,” the voice responds before the sound of metal on metal rings out.

Before Stiles has a chance to figure out what’s going on, another body is thrown his way, and a swing of Allison’s sword takes care of the obstacle. When Stiles looks down, he realizes the woman at his feet was one of the Skinwalkers who tried to stop Kira and Noshiko from leaving all those years ago. He shakes his head, glancing back up just in time to see another spray of blood as it lands on his face. The orange illumination grows stronger, bathing the immediate area in the color of fire, and Stiles finds himself needing to squint to see anything.

Another of the Skinwalkers runs toward him, her spear glistening in the light.

“Stop!” he yells, raising his gun. She doesn’t listen, instead finding him with her eyes and rearing back her arm to throw the weapon. He fires off two shots, quickly dispatching her.

“She was mine,” he hears the strange voice call out. It’s still too bright to see, but Allison angles her sword to block both of their lines of sight, forcing them to rely on their sense of hearing.

“She was going to kill me, I had full right to kill her,” Stiles responds. The glow dies down, practically instantaneously, before Stiles feels a sharp sting in his stomach. He rears back and Allison moves in front of him, catching the attacker’s sword with her own.

“And if _you_ try to kill _him_ , I will end you,” Allison adds. She hears a yell and rolls out of the way just as another woman swings at her. Allison darts a glance at Stiles and without speaking they both know what she plans to do.

He makes an exaggerated reach for his gun to distract the woman while Allison circles around. Just as the woman begins to speak again, Allison tackles her from behind. They roll for a few moments, each trying to gain the upper hand, before Allison pins the woman’s arms beside her head, knocking the sword out of her grip with her knee. Stiles pushes himself up as quickly as possible with his injury, grabbing his gun and leveling it at the woman’s face.

“You’re under arrest by the FBI. Anything you say can and will -” but he’s cut off before he can finish.

“Stiles?” the woman asks. There’s blood all over her, and he’s pretty sure her lip is busted, but he recognizes her as soon as her face is discernable, even after her orange eyes fade to their human brown color.

“Kira?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated some of the tags on this here fic, mostly because I know already a few specific scenes that will be coming up (and yes, some are of the smutty variety... other than Stiles/Allison/Kira can you guess who the other threesome will be?). I'll add further character and/or relationship tags as I get to the chapters with them, but I wanted to wait to do so in case anyone saw a tag and came here specifically for it.
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading, especially those who've been keeping up with this story! I'm falling more and more in love with it as I write, so I hope you're enjoying just as much! You can find me on tumblr @hufflepuffkira.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stallison catches up with the resident kitsune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for taking so long to update this!! I had this chapter written and went to post it but realized it vanished somehow, so I had to take the time to rewrite it, and I couldn't quite remember what all I had before.
> 
> Note on the timeline - I can never remember what year it is in show canon, so I just guessed with season 5 ending in 2013.
> 
> Also Kira kept her sword because the show made a stupid-ass decision in not having her take it with her

She starts losing count of the days within a few weeks. Training is nonstop, and she’s in this new world, or rather, an ancient peek at the prehistoric supernatural world. When she chose to come back, she was being honest with Scott. She did it for  _ herself _ , despite what anyone else may have thought. But she’d vastly underestimated exactly what that meant.

The Skinwalkers were as welcoming as one would expect such creatures to be. They took Kira in as one of their own, giving her the clothes and training her in their weapons. She didn’t care much about the change in clothing. After all, her mother was right in saying these women weren’t so different from modern society, wearing animal pelts in place of leather jackets.

A year into her new residency, Kira realized she no longer felt pain. The emotions were still just under the surface, but as she bandaged her arm one night, having gotten a particularly nasty slice in it courtesy of one of the Skinwalkers, she realized that she didn’t even feel the injury. She only took the care to treat it because she could see the blood running down the dirt-covered appendage. Without the constant worry of civilization, of the norms one needed to adhere to and the stable face expected to be shown to the world, Kira realized she was becoming a true kitsune, giving in to her more animalistic side. Her goal was becoming blurrier the longer she stayed.

The Skinwalkers didn’t appear to have names, at least not that Kira had been able to find out. They barely spoke to her, instead making life a constant battle, always looking for teachable moments. The fox inside of her was restless, but it lashed out less often. The first time it happened, Kira didn’t have anyone to guide her out of it, like she had with Scott. The Skinwalkers only doubled their assault until she tired herself out. Their tactics didn’t seem to be the most effective, but with the lack of conversation held, Kira had little ability to learn outside of observation and experience.

It was in her fifth year that Kira realized she’d lost count of the days. She had a pliant stone she had taken habit to carving lines into, denoting the passage of time, but when she suddenly woke after a crack of thunder echoed around the canyon, she realized that the stone was gone. She swept around the cave, looking for the rock, but she knew that there wasn’t exactly a place for it to be hidden. As she sat back down in defeat, she wondered when the last time she even marked the day was. Time was blurring even faster than she’d realized, and she couldn’t even remember the names of all her old friends. 

There was Scott, of course there was Scott. She couldn’t imagine ever forgetting someone like him. Scott’s best friend was Stiles, and he and Allison struggled with the darkness of the Nemeton more than Scott had. The Oni killed Allison, while Stiles was possessed by the dark kitsune. Then there were the other girls. Maria - no, _Malia -_  Kira’s would-be love... and then Lenore? Lydia? Yes, Kira thinks. Lydia was the smart one. Allison’s boyfriend when she died was... shit. Kira ran her hands through her hair, staring at the stars above, and shook her head, realizing that was a lost cause to try remembering the name. Scott had a beta, of course, and there was another human, but she couldn’t even begin to think of what their names were. As she laid back down, she found herself sleeping better than usual at the thought of fewer worries in her mind.

The very next day, she killed someone. One of her new family. Kira killed a Skinwalker, and she couldn’t find it in her heart to feel guilty for very long. 

They’d been training, fighting with their usual weapons. But something triggered Kira’s fox, and she didn’t even have the chance to attempt to quell it before it overwhelmed her. It quickly disposed of the woman’s spear, snapping it in half, and impaling her. When Kira turned to leave her, the woman grabbed her ankle, and Kira spun back around, slicing the woman’s throat with her sword. As she sheathed the blade, she couldn’t help but think the woman should’ve considered herself lucky for not being beheaded. The others stood around, none of them making a move to stop her or speak. Taking her cue, Kira turned foot and wandered out into the desert. They all knew she would be returning, but she needed some time to herself, somewhere they hadn’t forced their way into.

As Kira sat down on the edge of a cliff, legs dangling, she found herself reminded of the Beacon Hills Preserve, of hanging out in the woods with Scott or Malia. She expected to feel sadness, maybe pain, but stretching her arms out and collapsing backward to lay down, she realized her mind was empty. She almost felt  _ happy _ , and only a sliver of her conscience reminded her that she’d just committed murder, something that should conceivably not make her enjoy the moment. She wanted to blame the fox, but if she was being truthful, she’d realize that she and the fox were finally becoming one and the same.

The next five years go by in a blur. Anger becomes her primary motivation to continue her training, but Kira can’t tell who, or what, she’s really mad at. There was her own inability to control the fox in the first place, which led her down this path, of course. There were the remaining Skinwalkers, who regarded her with more caution than before. They spoke even less, if that was possible, and they only showed their faces when training with her. After everything, though, Kira couldn’t find anyone to blame but her mother.

Noshiko hadn’t even tried to train her daughter. She didn’t want Kira to realize what she was, instead trying to hide her true heritage. It was Scott who pulled her into the foray, who gave her an opportunity to find herself. She never would’ve believed she was kitsune without his encouragement and support. He opened her eyes to the supernatural world and allowed her to feel more comfortable in her own skin. Noshiko, on the other hand, simply wanted her to suppress who she was,  _ what  _ she was. She gave no objections to her leaving. Her father was the most vocal in wanting her to stay, but he knew she had to follow her own path.

Tonight’s exercise feels different to Kira. It’s just as dark as ever, the Skinwalkers as elusive as always, but the air has a crackle of electricity in it, and not Kira’s doing. She’d been learning more mastery over her powers, but she hadn’t experienced anything like this before. It was almost as though the air was  _ humming _ . It reminded her of a time she was almost sure she dreamt of, the last time she saw an Oni. That was the first time she realized just how much the fox wielded her, that it wasn’t the other way around. That had changed, however, as Kira stepped back to let it come in. She’d learned how to call upon it, give it passage into her soul and body.

Her eyes light up like fire, and she scans her perimeter. Her hair is in two long braids, starting at her temples and making their way down her back. The style may take time to do, but Kira enjoys the freedom of movement it allows, removing the obstacle of hair in the way. She pulls her sword out from its sheath, dropping the leather binding on the ground, and holds it steadily in front of her body. 

The stars begin to dim, whether an illusion or truth, she’s not sure. A clicking noise echoes behind her, and Kira sweeps her sword in the general direction, barely skimming its target. Having a vague idea of what she was facing, trusting her instincts, Kira closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calling on the fox. She ignores the surrounding noises, focusing on her heartbeat and inhalation of breath.

Just as the air shifts in front of her, indicating the swing of a weapon, Kira ducks and rolls out of the way, opening her eyes to see one of the Skinwalkers. Her eyes are full of anger, and she rotates her wrist, showing off the swing of her sword in an attempt to intimidate Kira. Instead, Kira smiles, and her inner fire spreads out, and before she knows what’s happening, the woman’s arm is on the ground, weapon still in hand. Kira swings her sword again, savoring the warmth the spray of blood gives her as the woman dies.

Turning heel, she again ducks to avoid another sword, catching the tip of it on her shoulder. She yells out in pain, and sees another Skinwalker in front of her.

“This wasn’t part of the deal!” She yells out the words, not meaning to sound like an obstinate teenager. Those days were long past her, after all.

“ We said we would help. We never said how.” The Skinwalker motions behind Kira, and she realizes the Oni has returned. It looks to be the same as the one she defeated as a child, because when she finally makes contact with it, she feels the sting of the blade in her own skin. 

“This is some cruel mockery,” Kira shouts, her voice distorted from her fox spirit. She catches the Oni’s sword with her own the next time, the metal ringing out against the silence. It disappears in a cloud of smoke, and Kira again searches her surroundings. The last remaining Skinwalker charges at her, swinging her spear in hopes of knocking Kira down, but Kira sidesteps and kicks her back to propel her further forward. Just as she goes to pursue her, she hears a few pops of gunfire and stops in her tracks. 

“She was mine,” the fox calls out, and Kira doesn’t care that she’s no longer in control. There’s a glow around her, and she slowly walks forward, trying to determine who is there. When she senses the Oni behind her, she swings her sword blindly, decapitating it without a single glance. Her anger is building, fueling her fire.

“She was going to kill me, I had full right to kill her,” a man says. His voice is gritty, unusual, _human_. Kira dulls her fire, giving her a sense of security, and she swipes out with her sword, intended as a warning cut. She smiles when she hears his gasp of pain.

“And if you try to kill him, I will end you,” a female voice says. Kira backs up, wondering what prompted two humans to venture out this far. Surely they couldn’t just be lost, especially considering at least one of them is armed. 

Kira swings her sword again, not wanting to truly harm these innocents, but her target comes up short. Her eyes shine brilliantly, and she sees the movement of the man reaching for the gun. She begins to speak, wanting to warn them that if they don’t leave they’ll be killed, but before she can, she feels a force come onto her from behind, knocking her down.

They grapple for a moment, each trying to gain the upperhand, until the woman slams her knee into Kira’s hand, making her drop the sword. Before she can make another move, she sees the barrel of a gun pointed at her.

“You’re under arrest by the FBI. Anything you say can and will -” the man starts. Kira’s eyes narrow and return to their normal state before she interrupts him.

“Stiles?” It’s been a long time, but she’d recognize that mug anywhere.

“Kira?” He lowers his gun, hesitating to holster it, before she smiles up at him.

“Long time no see,” Kira says. Her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but that’s more because she simply hasn’t smiled in  _ years _ , not because the emotions aren’t there.

“You could say that,” Allison pants, still out of breath from their rumble. She straightens, still straddling Kira, and sits back. “Even longer since _we_ saw each other,” she says.

“You can’t be here,” Kira manages after a beat of awkward silence, turning her gaze to the woman in front of her. “It’s just not possible. I  _ saw  _ you die.”

“And I felt myself die,” Allison says wryly. “Now, can I get up, or are you going to try to slice us up again?” None of them have to worry about her coming off in a joking manner - they’ve all been through so much that they don’t underestimate the other party's strength and prowess.

“I promise,” Kira chuckles. She stops for a moment, shaking her head. “Do you know how long it’s been since I laughed? What year is it, by the way?” Allison gets up and holds out a hand for Kira to take, helping her stand and showing a sense of solidarity.

“2023,” Stiles replies. He doesn’t seem to want to meet Kira’s eye, and Allison can see why when she sees the reaction it garners.

“Are you serious?”

“Couldn’t be more so,” Stiles says. He finally looks up to see the shocked expression on Kira’s face. She almost thinks he looks guilty, but she's not quite sure why. A question for later, she decides.

“I’ve been in this fucking desert for a decade?!” Kira turns around to look at the trail of dead bodies. “Wait,” she continues, whirling back to face Allison and Stiles. “What are you two doing here anyway?” She’d been so preoccupied on whatever the hell this training was supposed to have been that she hadn’t even stopped to consider them.

“It’s a bit of a long story, but we were tracking an Oni.” Allison weakly points at the head lying near Stiles’s foot. “And that looks like Mr. Grumpy himself.”

“Oh. Why were you tracking it?” Kira crosses her arms, walking back to stand with them.

“You know what, I am hungry,” Stiles says suddenly. “Why don’t we all go find a motel to get cleaned up in and grab some food? We can do a late dinner or a really early breakfast,” he says, smirking.

“What is wrong with you, Stilinski?” Allison asks.

“Nothing, I’m just famished, but since we don’t have food, and we’re all covered in varying amounts of dirt and blood, we should probably make ourselves look presentable.”

Allison looks like she’s going to disagree, but Kira bends down to pick up her sword and walks in the opposite direction of the duo.

“Where are you going?” Allison calls after her. She’s not sure if she should follow or not.

“To get my  Koshirae, the sword belt. It’s not exactly smart to walk around with a sword unsheathed, after all,” Kira says. Stiles shrugs when Allison looks to him, and they follow after her. Once they make it to the hut, she stoops down before turning, wrapping the belt around her waist. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a proper shower and meal? I’m taking Stiles up on his offer,” she says, smiling again. "Besides, it's not like I have anything else to do out here now that they're dead." Her voice is more blase than she intends, but she doesn't dwell on it.

As she continues to walk, she wraps her arms around Stiles and Allison, pulling them along with her, wedging herself in the middle. They hesitate for a moment, but they both place their arms around Kira as well, walking as one solid unit. Stiles holds Allison’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost halfway through, you guys!! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr! I'm @hufflepuffkira :)


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